


Life Lessons

by Captain Natasha Riker-Troi (textsfrompicard)



Series: The Adventures of Natasha Riker-Troi [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Titan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Holodecks/Holosuites, Imzadi (Star Trek), Minor Character Death, Rescue, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Self-Sacrifice, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/textsfrompicard/pseuds/Captain%20Natasha%20Riker-Troi
Summary: This is the story of how Tasha finds true love, as well as a few key moments in the development of her Starfleet career. This is sort of a mini-trilogy: each chapter is its own story (with the exception of Chapters 3 and 4, which are part of the same story), taking place approximately two years apart.
Relationships: Beverly Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard, Natasha Riker-Troi/Rene Picard, Natasha Riker-Troi/Totyarguil Bolaji, William Riker/Deanna Troi
Series: The Adventures of Natasha Riker-Troi [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732120
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. My First Duty is to the Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourteen-year-old Tasha decides to take the bridge officer’s exam in order to prepare herself for Starfleet Academy.

_Circa September 2395_

_“Congratulations. You’ve just destroyed the U.S.S. Titan.”_

Tasha scowled at the holodeck computer’s rendition of what had just occurred. _Daddy probably had someone program it that way, as a joke. Well, I’ll show him._ She looked over to her friend, Totyarguil Bolaji, known to his peers as Yar for short. Tasha personally got quite a kick out of this, as Yar had been her namesake’s surname. Upon learning this piece of information, she had decided that she and Totyarguil ought to be best friends. And so they had been for most of their lives, although lately something seemed to be shifting in their relationship. Yar was only two years older than her, but perhaps that was enough to experience the phenomenon of ‘growing apart’.

Tasha shook off the momentary melancholy and asked her friend, “What did we do wrong?”

Yar shrugged. “Beats me. This was _your_ idea. I thought you’d prepared for this.” The ‘this’ in question was the engineering portion of the bridge officers’ exam, which Tasha had discovered in the holoprogram menu a few days before and decided immediately that she ought to play the scenarios, just for the practice. It would be another two years before she would even be old enough to apply to Starfleet Academy, but she wasn’t going to waste a moment. When the time came, she would be ready. Of that she was absolutely certain. She would not permit herself to believe otherwise.

Which was why Yar’s last comment was so biting to her. “I _did_ prepare!” she insisted. “This is _supposed_ to be the hardest section of the exam. Mom and Dad said so. We got all the other parts right on the first try. We’ll just have to keep doing this one until we get it right.”

“Maybe you should keep doing it by yourself,” said Yar. “I don’t plan on going to Starfleet Academy, anyway. I don’t need to know any of this.”

Tasha blinked in surprise. “I— I thought you said you _wanted_ to help me,” she stammered, trying not to let on how hurt she was.

“I do, I do,” Yar reassures her hastily. “But I’ve got university admissions exams to worry about soon. I’m gonna need to start focusing on those anyway.”

“I guess…” Tasha couldn’t find any holes in his logic, but she didn’t want to lose her friend. Why was he suddenly so interested in spending less time with her? “I can help you with those too, though. That’s what friends are supposed to do, isn’t it? Help each other?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Yar put a smile on his face that seemed a little forced to Tasha. “Let’s try it again, from the top.”

Tasha regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then turned to address the empty air: “Computer, reset simulation.” The empty holodeck grid instantly transformed around them into Titan’s engineering section, complete with holographic representations of Titan’s engineering personnel. “Begin program.”

***************************************

Meanwhile, in Stellar Cartography, the senior staff had gathered to watch Commander Melora Pazlar’s presentation on the area of space they were about to pass through.

“The concentration of nebulae here is higher than in any other area of known space,” Pazlar said as she floated amid the holographic representation of the nebulae in question. The other officers were gathered on the observation deck beneath her, watching her brush stars aside with the ease of someone who was quite literally born to live in microgravity. “There are also several different varieties of exotic radiation, zones of active star formation, quantum filaments and cosmic strings-- you wouldn’t want to be out there without shields. And we’re reading energy discharges from some of the more radioactive nebulae…”

As Pazlar continued speaking, Admiral Riker discreetly turned aside and tapped his combadge. “Computer, state program currently running in Holodeck 3,” he whispered.

 _“Bridge Officers’ Test, Engineering Qualification.”_ The computer’s voice issued from his combadge in the same hushed tones.

Deanna Troi gave him a look. “Will, you _promised_ her you wouldn’t do this.”

“I know,” Riker said. “Which is why I’m not going to tell her I was checking on her progress while she was running the exam. Speaking of which, wasn’t she on the engineering section half an hour ago?”

“That _is_ the hardest one, _Imzadi_ ,” said Deanna with a knowing smile. “Really, you don’t have to be a mother hen about this, you know. There comes a time when every child has to learn how to stand on his or her own.”

“Bev and Tommy don’t mind when I—”

“The twins are _six years old_ , Will. They both expect and need more attention than the average teenager.”

Riker sighed. “Why couldn’t children just come with instruction manuals attached to them along with the umbilical cord?”

Deanna’s smile widened. “That would take all the fun out of it, _Imzadi_.”

***************************************

“That doesn’t make sense!” snapped Yar. “The neodyne relay isn’t even designed to do that! If we just switch the EM power inverter to--”

“We tried that last time, remember?” Tasha said irritably. “It didn’t work. Are you even _trying_ to pay attention?”

“Look, this is _your_ stupid game, not mine--”

“It’s not a game, and it’s not stupid! It’s _practice_ for my _career_. Don’t you care that this is important to me?”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the persistent whine of the Red Alert siren. Finally Tasha spoke again. “Maybe you should just go,” she said bitterly. “I don’t need you anyway. I can do this myself.”

“Fine,” muttered Yar. “Computer, exit.”

There was no response. “Computer, exit!” Nothing.

“Computer, arch,” declared Tasha. The arch did not appear, and the Red Alert siren continued to wail. 

“Sir, the ODN conduit between here and the antimatter storage deck has been severed. The magnetic field on antimatter storage unit three is starting to fluctuate,” called the holo-representation of Chief Engineer Ra-Havreii.

“Computer, freeze program,” Yar said. The holo-engineers continued to rush back and forth as holo-Ra-Havreii continued to work frantically at his monitor.

Tasha struck her combadge. “Riker-Troi to bridge. Riker-Troi to security!” No response.

“I’m going to see if I can contact Mom,” Tasha said to Yar. She closed her eyes and reached out for her mother’s mind.

***************************************

Stellar Cartography was in chaos. One minute Pazlar was giving her briefing, and the next moment a particularly violent energy discharge from one of the nearby nebulae had whacked the Titan, punching right through their shields like they weren’t even there. The microgravity environment created for Pazlar’s benefit had temporarily failed, and Pazlar had fallen fifteen feet before the microgravity restored itself just as she was about to hit the deck. There were no serious injuries among the senior staff, so Captain Vale sent Dr. Ree to oversee operations in sickbay, which was already reporting a swarm of crewmembers with injuries ranging from mild to moderate.

“Commander Hachesa reports everything is under control on the bridge,” Commander Sarai said to Vale. “But Commander Ra-Havreii is reporting there are power fluctuations in the ODN conduits leading to the holodecks. He recommends shutting them down temporarily so he can make repairs.”

Vale nodded. “Is anyone using the holodecks right now?”

“Yes,” Riker interrupted, drawing closer to them. “Tasha and Totyarguil Bolaji are running the bridge officer’s exam in Holodeck 3.”

Vale raised an eyebrow, amused. “Kind of jumping the gun, isn’t she?”

“She takes after her father,” Troi said, coming to stand beside her husband. She gave him a wry smile. “She’s determined to make something of herself.”

“Vale to Holodeck 3,” said the captain.

Silence. “Vale to Riker-Troi. Tasha, come in,” repeated Vale. There was no response. “Vale to transporter room 3. Lock onto Tasha and Totyarguil in Holodeck 3 and beam them out of there.”

_“Transporters are down, Captain. We can’t do anything.”_

“I’m going down there,” Riker declared. He started to stride toward the door.

“Wait,” Troi interjected, pulling on Riker’s uniform sleeve. “Tasha’s trying to reach me.”

_Mom? The program won’t shut off, and we can’t leave or reach anyone over the com. What’s going on?_

_The ship was hit by an energy discharge, little one. Xin says there are power fluctuations in the ODN conduits leading to the holodecks, and he wants to shut them down to make repairs. But we can’t do that while you’re in there. Maybe you can just--- hold on._ “Troi to Ra-Havreii. Are the holodeck safeties still on?”

_“Negative, Counselor. We need to do a complete shutdown and restart to get them working again.”_

“But my daughter’s in there!” protested Riker.

“Okay, nobody panic,” Vale said calmly. “I’m sure we can figure out a way to get them out. It’s not like they’re in any danger-- oh.” She stopped. “Which section of the exam is she on?”

“Engineering,” Troi said with alarm. “And if she doesn’t find the correct solution soon, the holo-Titan will be destroyed… and Tasha with it.”

***************************************

_Little one, the holodeck safeties aren’t working, and there’s no time to get you out of there before the simulation ends. I’ll just tell you the solution so the holo-ship doesn’t explode, and then--_

_Wait! No, you can’t, Mom! I have to figure this out myself! That’s the point!_

_Natasha Miana Riker-Troi, this is a matter of life and death and it is_ not _up for debate! Now you listen to--_

“It doesn’t make sense,” Yar muttered suddenly.

With enormous effort, Tasha raised her mental shields and pushed her mother out of her mind. “What?” she asked irritably. Her mother was doing her best to push her way back in, but Tasha had learned most of her psionic defense techniques by learning to defend herself against her mother’s own mind, so she was able to keep her at bay… at least for now.

“This whole scenario,” said Yar. “This is a test for people who want to become command officers, right? Well, command officers aren’t supposed to know jack about engineering. That’s what the _engineering_ officers are for, aren’t they? Don’t command officers just tell people what they want done, and then all the other officers carry out their orders the way they know how to?”

Tasha froze, staring at her friend in utter astonishment. “Of course,” she breathed. “Why didn’t I see it before. This isn’t an engineering problem, it’s a _command_ problem! I should’ve known!”

_NATASHA! You have to send someone into--_

_It’s okay, Mom, I’ve got it!_ “Xin,” she said aloud, directing her attention to the chief engineer. “Could you repair that ODN conduit if you went into the crawl space?”

Xin blinked rapidly at her in alarm. “Sir… that crawl space is in a warp plasma shaft. Nobody could survive the radiation in there.”

“Thirty seconds to containment failure!” another engineering officer called out.

“I’m aware of that, Commander,” Tasha said calmly to Xin. “Can you repair it?”

“Yes, but--”

“Then do it. That’s an order.”

They faced each other silently for a moment, then Xin nodded. “Aye, sir.” He turned and entered the Jeffries tube, the doors closing behind him. At the same time, main engineering seemed to vanish around them, leaving Tasha and Yar standing on an empty holodeck. The holodeck doors opened, and Tasha’s parents rushed in.

“You are in big trouble, young lady!” Deanna said, trying to sound stern even as she wrapped her daughter in a tender embrace. She pulled back to look into Tasha’s eyes. “What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed!”

A chill spread throughout Tasha’s body as the reality of the situation caught up with her. “Mom, if that had been the real Xin… I would’ve just sent him to his death.”

Her mother’s expression softened. “That’s part of command, little one, and it’s the hardest lesson you'll have to learn.” She exchanged a significant look with Will before continuing, “Your first duty is to the ship, and you can’t put any one crewmember’s welfare before that of the ship and crew at large… not even your own.”

Tasha sighed. “I thought I knew that… but I wasn’t prepared at all for the experience. Maybe I’m not cut out for command after all.”

“Don’t say that,” Riker insisted. “I told your mother when she passed her officer’s exam, and I’m telling you now-- you did exactly what you needed to do. You looked at all the options, and then you made the hard choice. That’s what being a command officer is all about.” A mischievous grin crept over his face. “Now let’s get out of here… _Commander_.”

Deanna rolled her eyes and laughed out loud despite herself. “All right, _Admiral_ , don’t go putting ideas in her head. She’s not even a cadet yet.”

“Too late,” said Tasha, turning her father’s last word over in her mind. “‘Commander Riker-Troi… I think I like the sound of that. But it’s still not a perfect fit… you know what I like better? _Captain Natasha Riker-Troi of the Federation Starship--_ whatever. Hmm… it’s not likely they’re going to give me an Enterprise, is it?”

Riker chuckled. “I don’t think Jean-Luc is going to step down anytime soon. And certainly not for some young upstart who doesn’t listen to her superior officers.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?!”

“It means your mother is your superior officer, and in the future we expect you to obey her orders when there’s a life-threatening emergency, and not to shut her out of your mind when we have no other way to contact you. Is that clear?”

Tasha sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Riker fluffed his daughter’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “You’re going to make a great captain someday, sweetheart. But you’ve got plenty of time. You don’t need to go rushing through this phase of your career. This is a time for learning and growth, not an all-out sprint to the captain’s chair.”

Tasha’s mouth wriggled in amusement. “I also don’t need to stay at the same position and rank on the same ship for fifteen years.”

“ _Hey…_ ”

***************************************

Later that night Tasha and Totyarguil were in Beale Street, one of Titan’s two main crew lounges (the other being Rue Bourbon, both names inspired by the former Captain William T. Riker's love of jazz), for a regular weekly study session with their schoolmates. There were others around, but the two of them had a table to themselves. There had been an unspoken understanding for a long time that Tasha and Yar were to be treated as a separate, discrete unit, and when they sat together no one else was to sit with them unless invited. Somehow the two of them were the last ones to come to this realization, and even now neither of them had fully admitted to themselves or each other the significance of this paradigm.

“Can I ask you something?” Tasha finally said, unable to ignore the proverbial elephant in the room any longer.

Yar looked up from his molecular biology notes, startled. “Uh-- sure. What’s up?”

“What was your problem earlier?” asked Tasha. “On the holodeck, I mean. It seems like you don’t want to hang out with me anymore. You didn’t want to do the bridge officer’s exam with me, and you keep talking about how you need to focus on your university applications--” Much to her embarrassment, she heard a quaver in her voice, and her throat began to close up. She tried to cover her involuntary reaction with a harsher tone. “If you’re outgrowing our friendship, Yar, just say so. Don’t keep leading me on like this.”

“That’s not it at all!” Yar sounded almost as shocked as he looked. “I just--” he stopped, as if reconsidering what he was about to say. When he continued speaking, his gaze was fixed firmly on the table. “I don’t want to lose you, Tasha. Not just as a friend, but in the larger sense. If-- _when_ you go off to Starfleet, you’re going to get into all sorts of situations much more dangerous than a simulation on the holodeck. I don’t want anything to happen to you. What if _you_ had been the one who had to go into the crawl space? What then?” His voice broke, and the padd in his hands began to tremble. Tasha gazed at him, transfixed, while he found his voice again. “I-- I care about you, Tasha, and I want-- well, I want to protect you.” He spread his arms out helplessly. “That’s all I can say.”

Tasha regarded him silently for a long moment, then she smiled gently as she reached across the table and took his hands in both of hers. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “That’s all you need to say.”


	2. The Final Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha learns the hard way that nothing lasts forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the TNG novel A Time to Hate, in which a minor character refers to Kyle Riker's sacrifice of his own life to save his son's as 'the final duty'. I make a couple minor references to the Destiny trilogy of TNG novels and the Titan novel Sight Unseen, and I also refer to my previous fic, Twintuition, so check that out if you haven’t already! I laid some early groundwork for Tasha and René’s relationship in that one, so it’s worth a read for that reason at the very least. :)

_ Late July 2397 _

It was supposed to be the best day of her life, at least until her eventual acceptance into Starfleet Academy. Instead, it became the worst.

Everything had started off so wonderfully. Her father made her favorite breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes with syrup, then her little brother ‘accidentally’ let slip that they were throwing her a surprise sweet 16 party in Beale Street that evening (“just act surprised,” her mother said with a patient smile), and now Totyarguil was surprising her (a real surprise this time), with a romantic lunch picnic in Cargo Bay 3. He had originally planned for it to take place in the arboretum, but Tasha had insisted that the cargo bay would be more romantic and afford them more privacy.

The two of them had gotten much closer over the preceding two years. Without making any conscious effort, they had started casually dating, having the occasional lunch in the holodeck or dinner in Beale Street, and sometimes just taking a walk through the ship just for the heck of it. Their first kiss had been on deck seven right in front of the door to her quarters; it had lasted precisely 7.5 seconds until her father stepped into the hall and repeatedly rang the door chime to indicate their time was up. If they had had a porch light, he would undoubtedly have flicked it on and off. Tasha secretly suspected that her father was thoroughly enjoying playing the role of overprotective father. She herself found it mildly annoying, but the one time she had mentioned that fact to her mother, Deanna had wistfully reminisced on how she’d wished her father could have still been around when her then-future-husband had come to court her. Thereafter, Tasha always felt a little guilty whenever she felt irritated by her father’s interference in her burgeoning love life. He was only doing it because he loved her, and she supposed it was better than not having a father at all.

She did have an ulterior motive for wanting to move their picnic to the cargo bay. That particular cargo bay was rarely trafficked, unlike the arboretum, and without sufficient privacy Tasha would never have the opportunity to take their relationship to the next level. Totyarguil was leaving the ship next month to attend Terra Sol University on Earth, and until Tasha made it to Starfleet Academy (with any luck, the following year), their relationship would be mostly over subspace. And there were certain things you just couldn’t do over subspace. Indeed, close personal contact was something of a requirement for what Tasha had planned.

She took another sip of her Talerian fizz (syntheholic, of course) and inched closer to Totyarguil, trying to appear casual as she snuggled up against him. “I hear Terra Sol has a good archaeology program,” she said.

“Yeah, you heard that from me.” Yar chuckled. “I haven’t talked about anything else for months.”

Tasha smiled at him, wondering how to make one’s smile appear ‘sultry’. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ve talked _your_ ear off about Starfleet often enough. You deserve the chance to return the favor.”

Yar grinned, then leaned closer. “I love how excited you get when you talk about Starfleet. You’re an amazing person, Tasha. You know exactly what you want in life and where you want to go. I’m so impressed with you.” He chuckled again. “Sometimes I get a bit jealous when I see how much you love Starfleet. I kinda wonder if maybe I have some competition.”

Tasha leaned in and kissed him, placing her hand on his knee. “Starfleet isn’t the only thing I want,” she said softly. _Wow, Tasha, that sounded amazing. Run with that._ “I want _you_ , Yar. Right here, right now.” _Oh shit. Did that sound like it was coming on too strong? I came on too strong, didn’t I? Fuck._

She pulled back slightly and looked down at Yar’s navel, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “I--”

Whatever Tasha was going to say next was lost in the sudden _whoop whoop_ of the Red Alert siren. At the same moment, there was a series of intense thumping noises coming from the other side of the space doors. It sounded like an immense hailstorm of asteroids was pummeling Titan’s outer hull.

Tasha tapped her combadge. “Riker-Troi to bridge. What’s going on?”

Captain Vale’s voice came over the com. _“We’re taking serious damage from the Kzinthi. I was just about to ask you to report to the bridge, Tasha, even though it’s not your shift. We really need your piloting skills at the conn right now.”_

“On my way. Riker-Troi out.” 

Tasha smiled apologetically at Yar as she leapt to her feet. “I guess I’ll have to take a rain check on this picnic.”

“It’s fine.” Yar kissed her tenderly. “Go do your thing, Tasha.”

They both turned to leave the cargo bay, but before they could take more than two steps, there was an especially loud _THUNK_ from outside, followed by a loud hissing noise. The next thing Tasha knew, she and Yar were literally swept off their feet and pulled backwards until they managed to get a grip on a nearby console. Air whooshed past them as their bodies were stretched out horizontally like flags on a flagpole. “Bridge!” Tasha hollered over the wind. “There’s a hull breach in cargo bay 3! Can you beam us out?”

_“‘Us’? What are you doing in the cargo bay?”_

“Is that really the most important question right-- AAAHHHHH!!!”

The next few seconds passed by so quickly Tasha didn’t have time to process what happened. She lost her grip on the console and was tumbling end over end towards the gaping hole in the hull. Suddenly a blunt object smashed into her side with such force that she was hurled against the wall. Her body turned so that she was facing the hole just in time to see a human figure go flying into open space a split second before the emergency force field flashed on. This image persisted in her mind, and she was still trying stubbornly to process it even as her consciousness faded to black.

******************************

Talerian fizz. A body flying through space. Her lips on his. _I love you--_

Tasha sat bolt upright, gasping frantically. “Yar--!”

“Easy, little one.” Deanna gently but firmly pushed her daughter back down onto the biobed. “You were exposed to vacuum for almost thirty seconds. You’ve been treated, but Dr. Ree insists that you need to rest here overnight.”

“But my party--”

“Will happen tomorrow.” Her father’s bearded face appeared over her mother’s shoulder. He rested a hand on Tasha’s head. “Your health is more important.”

Tasha nodded slowly, wondering what was causing the overwhelming feeling of panic and despair welling up in her heart. She tried to access her most recent memories, but for some reason she kept running into a wall. It was almost like her brain didn’t _want_ to know what had happened. But there was something she wanted to know, _needed_ to know…

Her mouth worked of its own accord. “Yar…?”

Will and Deanna looked at each other anxiously, both reluctant to broach the subject. “He didn’t make it, little one,” Deanna finally admitted. “Between the Kzinthi’s relentless attacks and all available power going into weapons and shields, he was exposed to vacuum for too long. By the time we were able to recover his body--”

Deanna broke off abruptly at the sound of a piercing scream. She looked around, startled, quickly becoming confused when no one in sickbay appeared to be screaming, or to even be able to _hear_ the scream. Then she realized the scream wasn’t out loud-- it was Tasha’s _mind_ that was screaming, in a loud, continuous wail without end. Before Deanna could recover her composure long enough to comfort her daughter, Tasha bolted to her feet and sprinted out the door.

“Tasha! _Tasha!_ ” But she was long gone.

******************************

Tasha continued to run at full speed through the halls, opting to go between decks using the Jeffries tubes instead of the turbolifts. She felt as though she was moving faster that way, and right now she needed the illusion desperately. Anything to not have to face reality. _Have to keep moving, have to get away--_ from what? How could she _possibly_ run from this? It was everywhere, in her and around her, grief and sorrow and sympathy pressing in from the minds on all sides-- _everyone knows but me! Was I the last to know? No, I was the_ first _to know, I just didn’t want to know, couldn’t think about--_ and she wanted to scream _enough, get away, get away from me,_ but it was no use, even if everyone on the ship vanished overnight, she would still have her grief and her pain, and it would be so much worse because she would be _alone_ , no one to hold her and comfort her and make the pain stop, _oh god please make it stop I can’t take it anymore, **please dear god somebody make it stop!**_

Suddenly she found herself in Holodeck 2, with no memory of how she got there. “Computer,” she gasped breathlessly, “run program The Low Note, and lock the doors so no one can get in here without my authorization!”

There was an affirmative beep. _“Doors locked.”_ The blank holodeck grid reshaped itself around her into a twentieth-century Terran jazz club. There was no audience, but in front of her there was a low stage with a holographic musician playing drums, another the clarinet. In the third musician’s place there was a trombone on a stand. Tasha walked up to the stage and carefully slid the trombone off its stand. With preternatural calm, she lifted the trombone to her lips and began to play.

******************************

Deanna stood outside Holodeck 2, arguing with her husband. “I need to talk to her alone, Will,” she insisted. “I’m her mother, and this is literally my job. I can best do my job _alone_. The last thing Tasha needs right now is a swarm of people around her trying to comfort her--”

“I don’t think her _parents_ constitutes a ‘swarm’, Deanna,” Will retorted.

“Nevertheless, we need to take this one step at a time, _Imzadi_. After I calm her down, then you can come in. Alright?”

Will sighed, knowing that he’d been defeated. “Fine. You let me know the _second_ she needs me, okay?”

“Okay.” Deanna stood on her tiptoes to reach up and kiss the clean-shaven part of his cheek, then she turned back to the closed holodeck doors. “Computer, unlock Holodeck 2. Authorization, Troi-alpha-alpha-omega-seven-four.” 

_“Doors unlocked. Do you wish to discontinue the program?”_

_“Negative. Open holodeck.”_

The doors parted, and Deanna entered a dimly lit, slightly smoky tavern-like atmosphere, bluesy jazz music resonating throughout the room. She recognized one of Will and Tasha’s favorite programs, the Terran jazz club The Low Note. They often came here to have father-daughter jam sessions, a tradition which started in the months immediately following the birth of Beverly Elizabeth and Thomas Ian Riker-Troi. Will had made a conscious effort to spend more one-on-one time with his eldest daughter to distract her from the fact that her mother now had to devote a large chunk of her time to two newborn infants, and wouldn’t have as much time to spare for Tasha as the little girl was used to. Tasha had had the time of her life learning to play the trombone at her father’s knee, and the two of them frequently insisted on performing duets for the rest of the family in this very same jazz club. It was a place filled with good memories of good times, and Deanna wasn’t surprised her daughter had chosen to play this particular program now. 

The music abruptly ended, and the holographic musicians froze. Tasha lowered her trombone. Through gritted teeth she said, “I don’t want to talk about it, Mother.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it, little one.” Deanna moved forward and took a seat at one of the little round tables directly in front of the stage. “But I’m sensing a great deal of anger and blame from you. It might help you to talk about the direction of those feel--” 

_Get OUT of my HEAD!_

Deanna reeled from the force of her daughter’s mental outburst. Calmly, she forced herself to continue. “Tasha, you need to express out loud what you’re feeling. The grieving process--” 

“ _Fuck_ the grieving process! I don’t fucking _want_ to grieve, did you ever think of that? I don’t want to fucking _feel!_ ” 

Deanna weathered Tasha’s expletive-laden vitriol with admirable aplomb. As a counselor, she was perfectly aware that many people sometimes needed to use swearing as a release, in order to vent excess anger so that they could bring their emotions under control enough to be able to talk coherently about them. She had been on the receiving end of rants like this many times during her career, and she silently thanked her own good judgement that she’d insisted that Will remain outside during this part of the process. He would have angrily come to his wife’s defense, not understanding the therapeutic nature of Tasha’s vituperation, and Deanna’s job would have become much more difficult. 

Rather than respond to Tasha’s outburst, she instead decided to sit and regard her daughter quietly. Seconds creeped by, the two of them never breaking eye contact, neither one choosing to break the silence. This was another common counseling technique; by remaining silent, the patient is motivated to keep talking in order to avoid an awkward silence in which they might have to examine their emotions more directly, and during their seemingly directionless rambling they invariably reveal the truth of their problem to both themselves and the counselor. 

Tasha was perfectly aware of this fact, however, and at the beginning she was determined not to fall into the patently obvious trap. But as the seconds became minutes, and the minutes ticked by, her righteous anger and rage crumbled as it became submerged in the rapidly rising tides of her grief and shame. She stumbled off the stage and into her mother’s waiting arms, sobbing with the relentless force of her pain and helplessness. “It’s not fair,” she gasped plaintively through her tears. “ _It’s not fair!_ ” 

“I know, baby,” Deanna whispered, gently rocking her daughter back and forth as she stroked her hair soothingly. “Believe me, I know.” 

There was an undercurrent to her mother’s voice and psionic aura that Tasha couldn’t identify. She looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?” 

Deanna sighed, looking into her daughter’s tear-streaked face. “You know that you had a… a predecessor, right?” 

Tasha nodded. “Your miscarriage, I know. You told me. Were… were you angry at Dad? Did you blame him for losing the baby?” 

“No, no, of course not,” Deanna said. She looked at her daughter curiously. It was interesting that Tasha had connected the concept of blame with her husband when she put herself in her mother’s shoes, but that could be explored later. Right now, Tasha needed to know that someone else understood what she was going through. Maybe then she would be able to share what was in her heart. “I didn’t blame your father, or Dr. Ree, or even myself. The miscarriage happened so suddenly that I didn’t have time to blame anyone, but when I became pregnant with you, and I found out that I was going to lose another baby… I was angry at _you_.” 

Tasha blinked rapidly, completely taken aback. “At _me?_ ” she asked, astonished. “But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even know what was going on. I was a _fetus_ , for god’s sake.” 

“I know.” Deanna smiled as her eyes glistened with remembered grief. “But I still resented you for failing your father and me, after we’d invested in you all our hopes and dreams for the future. I didn’t realize it myself, until I talked it out with Counselor Haaj. He reminded me of one of life’s unfortunate truisms, which is that it’s a natural instinct to want to assign blame when we’re wronged, even if by doing so we end up hurting someone we love… someone who doesn’t deserve it.” 

As her mother was speaking, Tasha became aware of a painful truth clawing its way up from the depths of her subconscious. Newly recovered memories bubbled to the surface, and with them came a growing sense of shame and horror. “He sacrificed himself to save me, Mommy,” she whimpered, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder as the tears began to flow anew. 

“Totyarguil?” Deanna asked gently. 

Tasha started to sob harder. “I-- I lost my grip, and-- I was-- I was f-falling and-- and then he-- he just--” she wept uncontrollably for a few moments as she struggled to regain coherence, “--he _deliberately_ let go of the console! He pushed himself into me and knocked me out of the way so that I would be safe, but he went through the hole before the force field went up and-- and--” Even now, Tasha couldn’t finish the sentence. It was unthinkable, unspeakable to her, despite her painfully certain knowledge of what she had seen of Yar’s final moments before she lost consciousness. “Why did he do that, Mommy? He didn’t have to die! He was just about to go to college, he had his whole life ahead of him-- _we_ had our whole life ahead of--” She stopped abruptly as she remembered what she had been hoping to do with Yar right before all hell broke loose. Pure, unadulterated pain welled up within her, threatening to choke her and rob her of her breath. “It was _my_ idea to go to the cargo bay. He wanted to go to the arboretum, but I thought the cargo bay would be more suitable for-- that is, I thought we’d have more privacy.” 

Deanna nodded slowly. “I see,” she said quietly as Tasha sniffled. “And yet you don’t blame yourself?" 

Shame burned within her. “No. I know I should, but I don’t.” She took a deep breath and made her confession. “I blame Yar.” 

_There it is_ , Deanna thought to herself. Catharsis had been achieved. Now came the part of her job (counselor _and_ mother) that she loved the most, and that she found the most rewarding. She took her daughter’s face in her hands and tilted it up until she was facing her. “You shouldn’t blame yourself, _or_ him, little one,” she said softly. “Yar did what he did because he cared about you, and he didn’t want anything to happen to you.” 

“Did it ever occur to him that I didn’t want anything to happen to _him?_ ” 

“There wasn’t time for him to think about that. He had to make a snap decision, and he did exactly what your father or I would have done in his place-- or what you would have done in his.” 

Tasha turned her mother’s words over in her mind. The pain was still there, but it seemed to have lessened. As usual, her mother had known just what to say and do to make her feel better. They had sat up together like this for many nights following their kidnapping by the Solanae when Tasha was four years old, and after Tasha and René Picard’s kidnapping by Beahoram I’lium of Capulon IV shortly before her seventh birthday. Tasha had refused to sleep alone for weeks following both incidents, and she would often wake up in the middle of the night screaming from the nightmares. Deanna would hold her close and soothe her, singing her favorite lullaby over and over again and telling her everything was going to be alright. Her mother had been a great comfort to Tasha during those times. René had helped, too; they had bonded significantly during their mutual ordeal, and they had kept in regular contact via subspace ever since. Tasha considered him to be her best friend, next to Totyarguil. Her _only_ best friend, now, she realized with a start. She would definitely need to talk to him, and soon. But for now it was enough to let her mother comfort her, and make her feel safe from the cold, cruel, terrifying world. 

The holodeck doors swished open, and Will RIker came marching in. “I couldn’t wait any longer,” he said impatiently. “Am I allowed to be with my daughter now?” 

Deanna rolled her eyes as Tasha actually managed to crack a smile. “Come in, Daddy,” she said, her voice thick with recently shed tears. He came over and engulfed both of them in an enormous bear hug. They sat together in silence, enjoying the simple fact of each other’s company. 

The sound of the doors opening in the background interrupted their tender moment of family togetherness. “Oh for gods’ sake,” Deanna said exasperatedly. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoi-- oh.” 

The new arrivals were Totyarguil’s parents, Axel and Olivia Bolaji. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Olivia spoke. “We’re sorry to interrupt, but the computer told us Tasha was in here. We just wanted to talk to her for a few minutes.” 

Will and Deanna looked at Tasha, who nodded her consent. Her parents got up and withdrew to a respectful distance as the Bolajis came closer to Tasha. “We just wanted to tell you that we share your grief,” said Axel, his voice thick with emotion. “And we don’t blame you at all for Totyarguil’s death. All he’s done for years now is talk about you, how pretty and clever you are and how much fun he has-- _had_ \-- being with you, and how much joy you brought him.” 

“You made our little eagle star very happy, Tasha,” Olivia continued tearfully, referring to the meaning of Totyarguil’s name in the Aranda language of the Australian Aborigines. “And he spent his last moments doing what he loved, which was being with you. You gave his life meaning, Tasha. We need to cherish that fact even as we mourn him.” 

Tasha knew Olivia and Axel’s words were meant to make her feel better. But she didn’t feel better, or even worse. Instead, she only felt a kind of hollow emptiness. She wasn’t sure whether or not that was an improvement over the pain and rage which had consumed her earlier. She supposed that it was neither, just different. That was progress, of a sort. Maybe she _could_ get through this. 

_Happy birthday to me_ , she thought to herself wryly. Black humor was just as good a coping mechanism as any, she decided. She might as well use every coping mechanism at her disposal. She was going to need them in the weeks to come. 

****************************** 

Totyarguil ‘Yar’ Bolaji’s funeral took place two weeks later in Sydney, Australia, on Earth. Every surviving member of the Bolaji family turned out for the proceedings, as well as every single member of Titan’s crew. The Enterprise-E had also arrived to drop off the Picard family, because René had insisted that he needed to be there for Tasha during the funeral. Tasha herself was mildly amused by all the attention that was being paid to _her_ \-- how many people were capable of diverting the fucking _flagship of the Federation_ just because their boyfriend died? Even her Uncle Thomas had showed up, having managed to catch a transport to Earth. Tasha was beginning to wonder if this was Totyarguil’s funeral or her own. Certainly part of her seemed to have died… 

“Hey.” Tasha looked up from her mournful reverie to see René standing next to her, smiling. 

She smiled back despite herself. “Hey.” 

Neither of them said anything more for a long moment. Tasha was pleased at how the silence between them was anything but awkward. It seemed that their friendship had progressed beyond the need to fill every silence with words. 

Finally Tasha spoke again. “Thank you for coming,” she said. 

René shrugged. “You’re my friend,” he said simply. 

Tasha suddenly flashed back to the first time René had uttered that phrase, after their kidnapper Beahoram had hit her and shoved both of them into a box. It was at that moment that Tasha knew she and René would be friends forever. Much of their acquaintance had been largely out of their hands, since their parents’ longtime friendship necessitated their mutual familiarity to a limited degree. But this was the moment their friendship solidified, not out of any need to placate their parents, but for themselves-- _they alone_ had decided to become friends, merely because they liked each other and cared about one another’s well-being. And that, Tasha reflected, was probably the best definition of friendship there was. 

The funeral ceremony began. René reached over and took Tasha’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently. He maintained his grip throughout the speeches by the local priest, Captain Vale, and Axel and Olivia Bolaji. He continued to hold her hand as Totyarguil’s casket was lowered into the ground, and he was still holding it after most of the crowd had gone home. There were only a few people milling around now; the Bolajis were still kneeling in front of their son’s grave, and the Picards and Riker-Trois were clustered together a short distance away. Tasha’s little brother and sister, Bev and Tommy, were standing behind their parents somewhat awkwardly. The eight-year-olds had only a limited understanding of the events that had led them here, and their parents had only given them the most cursory explanation of what had transpired in the cargo bay. The only thing they knew for certain was that their sister and the Bolajis had experienced a deep and profound loss, and they would need time to heal. Today’s events were supposed to be an important step in that process, their mother had explained to them. 

“You know what’s kind of a coincidence?” René said finally. It was the first time he’d spoken since the ceremony started. 

“What?” asked Tasha. 

“Well, the way Tasha Yar died, and the way Totyarguil died. They were both trying to save someone they cared about. And she was kind of _his_ namesake, too, at least nickname-wise.” 

Tasha took a moment to appreciate the bitter irony of all that. Her namesake had been killed suddenly, needlessly, and without mercy. Tasha Riker and Totyarguil ‘Yar’ Bolaji had been the dual heirs of her name, and they both ended up meeting a similar fate; one was a literal death, the other a figurative one. Tasha wasn’t normally a superstitious person, but even she found it difficult to ignore the commonalities. 

“I thought we were meant to be together,” she admitted. “I got so attached to the idea of our names going together, and I guess I was so used to hearing about my parents’ long, drawn-out ‘friend’ship, that I became fixated on the notion that he was the one-- that he would turn out to be _my_ Imzadi, just because he was my best friend. But I guess he wasn’t the one after all. We were just ships in the night-- not even the night. Dusk. We were ships at dusk, and by the time the sun finished setting, he was gone.” 

René stood silently for a few moments, contemplating his next words. “You know,” he said pensively, “we both heard the same kinds of stories growing up. How our parents were friends for a long time, and everyone around them knew they were supposed to be together when they themselves were denying their feelings… I think that maybe the way we see things isn’t always the way things really are. And sometimes the reality of certain situations is more obvious to the people who are on the outside looking in.” 

Tasha smirked. “You’re quite a philosopher, you know that?” 

René chuckled ruefully. “It’s an occupational hazard of being Jean-Luc Picard’s son." 

Tasha chuckled with him. Suddenly she realized that she felt a little lighter-- almost as if some inner conflict had been at least partially resolved. _I guess Mom was right. Funerals_ do _bring some closure to people._

She turned to René and hugged him, pulling him closer to her. He complied with her wishes, placing his arms around her shoulders and resting his head on top of hers. She sensed a wave of compassion emanating from him, wrapping itself around her like an invisible psionic shroud. The sensation was akin to being swaddled in feelings of empathy, good fellowship and something else she couldn’t quite identify, but which filled her with an overwhelming warmth that gave her a powerful sense of security. She smiled. Her future, which she had so carefully laid out in front of her, now had an element of mystery to it. She didn’t know everything it held in store for her, but René Picard would be part of that future. How big a part, she didn’t know. But she had faith in him, and he would be there for her, just as he always had. 


	3. The Decision, Part One: Friends Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha and René begin their first year at Starfleet Academy. Being the offspring of certain renowned current and former Enterprise personnel obviously affects their interactions with their peers and instructors, and they also must deal with their suppressed (more so in Tasha’s case than René’s) feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One takes place between August-October 2399, and the title is inspired by the song ‘Friends Don’t’ by Maddie + Tae. The song Tasha and René dance to is ‘Pull You Through’ by Maggie Rose.

_Personal log, Admiral William Riker, Stardate 74481.4:  
The Titan is about to rendezvous with the Enterprise-E at Starbase 74. We’ll have a six-hour layover before the newly minted Cadets René Picard and Natasha Riker-Troi have to board their transport for Earth, and then the Titan and the Enterprise will continue on to the Kzinthi peace summit. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to miss my little girl like crazy, but I couldn’t be prouder of the amazing young woman she’s become. She seems determined to follow in my footsteps, which I frankly still have trouble fully believing. I never imagined I could have the kind of close, loving relationship with my own children that I didn’t have with my own father, never mind that one of them would actually admire me enough to want to emulate me in her own career path. I don’t know what I did to deserve so much good fortune, but I’m definitely not going to take any of it for granted._

“I do wish we could go with you and help you settle in,” said Deanna for what had to be the umpteenth time, as the Picards and Riker-Trois gathered for a farewell dinner in Ten-Forward, facetiously nicknamed the Happy Bottom Riding Club by Will Riker before he left to take command of the Titan.

“You’re needed at the summit, Mother,” Tasha patiently said yet again. “Besides, it’s probably for the best. We’re already going to be the center of attention just by being _related_ to you. Can you imagine what the other cadets would say if they saw the famous Captain Picard moving luggage like a valet?”

Riker burst out laughing. “Probably the same thing Lwaxana said when she ‘asked’ you to carry _her_ luggage the first time she visited the old D,” he said to Picard before turning to his wife. “Didn’t she say something about his ‘nice legs’?”

Deanna and Picard simultaneously rolled their eyes while Beverly Crusher giggled. “I seem to recall that _you_ were the one who ended up carrying her luggage, Will,” said Picard pointedly. He smirked. “From what I remember, you made a most excellent valet, with the legs to match.” It was Riker’s turn to roll his eyes as Beverly and Deanna giggled harder.

“I did have to treat him for a hernia afterwards, though,” recalled Beverly as her mirth faded. “Just what was in that thing to make it so darn heavy?”

“Beats me,” Riker shrugged. He looked at his eldest daughter. “None of your luggage is heavy enough to be hernia-inducing, is it?”

“I only have one trunk, Dad,” said Tasha, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“We’re sure you’ll be fine, little one,” said her mother. “But I’m afraid you can’t keep us from worrying about you. We’re your parents; it’s in our nature.”

Tasha and René sighed in unison as their parents exchanged meaningful glances. Since time immemorial, young people had always chafed against the perceived limits set upon them by their parents. It was a classic part of growing up, even for the children of renowned Enterprise personnel.

“Tell us again what you’re studying,” insisted ten-year-old Bev Riker-Troi. “Yeah!” added her twin brother, Tommy. The twins were impatient for the day when they too could go to the Academy, and they were determined to live vicariously through their older sister until then.

“I’ll be in the command track, majoring in xenoanthropology and xenolinguistics,” repeated Tasha with a patient smile. “And my good friend Mr. Picard here has chosen to dedicate his life to astrophysics.”

“Astrophysics is hard,” observed Tommy.

“Maybe for _you_ , dweeb,” said Bev.

“ _You’re_ a dweeb!”

“Children,” Deanna interjected exasperatedly. “This is supposed to be a _happy_ occasion. I won’t have you calling each other names.”

Bev and Tommy scowled, but obeyed their mother’s directive. They were a rambunctious, hyperactive pair, in almost direct contrast to Tasha, who had been a relatively quiet, sweet, and focused child in comparison. Parenting more than one child was certainly an adventure, Deanna reflected.

“Xenolinguistics must be a lot more complex now than it was in my day, considering all the new and diverse additions to the Federation in the intervening years,” Deanna said to Tasha.

“That’s an understatement, said Tasha, rolling her eyes. “They recently rearranged the credit requirements so that linguistics majors would actually be able to finish in four years without having to take an extra year to finish all their _other_ Academy requirements, so now there’s more overlap with other fields. Like, for example, Intro to Tamarian, that counts as a multicultural elective, a language elective, _and_ a xenohistory elective. They had to double the number of sections because there was so much demand.”

“We were lucky to get in the same section together,” added René. “Most of the classes I have to take for astrophysics overlap with the anthro and linguistics classes, since not many people are majoring in both. This was the one section that _didn’t_ overlap with anything else I’m taking.”

Picard chuckled for a moment until he realized everyone was looking at him. “Oh,” he said, suddenly feeling very self-conscious, “I was just thinking that I certainly never envisioned a conversation such as this during my ordeal with Captain Dathon. When one is making first contact with an alien race, the last thing one thinks about how it will affect course requirements for future Academy cadets.”

“It’s very hard to envision _all_ of the potential ramifications of a given action,” agreed Deanna. “Some things may not be immediately obvious, but will only become clear many years after the fact.”

“True,” said Tasha, “but most things take _less_ than twenty years to do so.”

Riker and Troi looked at each other with raised eyebrows, as did Crusher and Picard. Riker couldn’t hide an amused smile as he turned back to his eldest daughter. “Natasha Riker-Troi, was that by any chance directed at _us?_ ”

“Why, yes, sir,” said Tasha pleasantly.

The four parents chuckled. “Well, just as long as that’s clear,” said Riker. Their meals and drinks arrived then, courtesy of Jordan the bartender. Riker raised his glass, as did the rest of the table. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” the others echoed as they clinked their glasses.

******************************

René and Tasha’s trip to Earth was relatively uneventful, marred only by a foul-smelling Tellarite who refused to move to a less adjacent seat. They arrived at Starfleet Academy amid a flurry of eager cadets, anxious parents, and impatient upperclassmen. Strangely, no one paid any particular attention to them, but that was sure to cease the moment they introduced themselves. The names _Picard, Riker_ , and _Troi_ were not likely to go unnoticed.

Their rooms were located directly across from one another, much to their mutual satisfaction. Both of their roommates had arrived before they did, and so upon René and Tasha’s arrival the four of them set about making themselves well acquainted. Tasha’s roommate was an Andorian _shen_ named Thara sh’Rothi, and she was also in the command track, with a focus on xenobiology and xenosociology. René’s roommate was a Vulcan named Sakar, and his specialty was in theoretical _n_ -space warp dynamics. They were both mildly impressed upon hearing that their roommates were the offspring of the famous Enterprise officers, but there was none of the absurd hero-worship or unreasonable envy that René and Tasha had feared from their fellow cadets. Of course, it would be illogical to expect either of those things from a Vulcan, and Thara happened to be an exception to the typical hot-bloodedness of the Andorians. Only time would tell if the rest of their peers, or their instructors, treated them any differently.

Classes began a few days after their arrival, and they were largely uneventful for the first week, with only the occasional whisper or furtive glance in their direction. It was in the middle of the second week, during an Intro to Tamarian lecture, that their first major kerfuffle took place.

Professor Kortin was discussing the progress made by the noted xenoanthropologist Dr. Sofia Borges in deciphering the basis of the Tamarian language. “Tamarian mathematical notation is very closely related to our musical notation,” the Tamarian intoned, pacing back and forth in front of the class. “Numerical information is conveyed through pitch and tone; indeed, many non-Tamarians have commented on how a typical Tamarian engine room sounds very much like a night at the opera-- although not _Klingon_ opera, of course. Additionally, it can be difficult for non-Tamarian ears to discern the nuances of Tamarian song-speech. This has led to many a friendly jibe regarding the seeming impracticality of Tamarian language. Can anyone tell me the most infamous of these?”

Several limbs went up. “Cadet Riker-Troi,” Kortin called.

“‘Mirab-his-sails-unfurled factor _what_ , sir?’ It comes from when a linguist was on the--”

“Hold on!” interrupted Corbin Elar, a particularly smarmy Cardassian cadet who seemed to have made it his personal mission to annoy Tasha. “My hand was up way before hers! Besides, you called on her or her boyfriend the last _four_ times! Isn’t it about time someone else had a turn!”

“You are not at liberty to critique my teaching methods, Cadet Elar,” Kortin said calmly.

“And René is _not_ my boyfriend,” added Tasha insistently.

“That will be all, Cadet Riker-Troi.” Tasha sat back in her chair sullenly as René glanced sideways at her, frowning.

“But you do this every lecture,” persisted Elar. “And you’re not the only one. Half the instructors seem to think those two are God’s gift to Starfleet!”

“We’re nothing of the sort,” said Tasha firmly. “If Professor Kortin seems to call on us more often than _you_ , it might just be because we know more about the events he’s discussing. Neither of those things is _our_ fault, by the way, so it makes no sense for you to have a problem with _us_.”

“Maybe it does,” said Elar.

“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Well, it’s no secret that you’re part Betazoid.”

“And that’s relevant because…”

“You _can_ read other people’s emotions, can’t you? You can reach into their minds somehow. I’m a xenohistory major, and I’ve studied the Battle of Betazed. I know that the Betazoids used an aggressive empathic projection technique to incapacitate the Jem’Hadar. Maybe _you’re_ using a similar technique to… ‘encourage’ the professors to pay more attention to you.”

Tasha gaped at him for a moment, too flabbergasted to respond. “ _Are you insane?_ ” she managed to blurt out. “I’m only a quarter Betazoid. My empathic sense is so laughably weak as to be nearly nonexistent! I certainly don’t have the mental strength to do what you’re describing.”

“So you claim.”

“I claim correctly! You’re just _jealous_ because--”

Tasha never got a chance to finish her sentence. Elar lunged at her, swinging his fist directly at her face. Before she could even react, René had thrown his body in front of her, intercepting the blow and taking it squarely on the nose. “René!” Tasha gasped, catching him before he could fall and hit himself on one of the combination desk-chairs.

Professor Kortin activated the com on the wall next to the door. “Security to Classroom 412-B,” he said firmly, then he strode over and pulled Cadet Elar away from Tasha and René and dragged him to the front of the room as two security officers entered. “Cadet Riker-Troi,” said Kortin, “perhaps you should take Cadet Picard to the infirmary while I explain to these officers what happened. I’ll have them send someone to take your statements if need be.”

“Yes, sir,” said Tasha shakily. She took René by the arm and led him from the room. Once they were far enough down the hallway, she stopped and pulled him around so that he was facing her. “Why did you do that?” she asked him angrily.

René blinked, somewhat nonplussed by her reaction. “You’re my friend. I was defending you.”

“Well, _don’t_ , all right? I don’t need you to go and get yourself hurt unnecessarily.”

It seemed to René that Tasha was definitely more upset than the situation called for. “It’s just a broken nose, Tasha,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. He did his best to project a similar emotional aura, just in case she was subconsciously picking up on the pain from his throbbing nose and _that_ was contributing to her bad mood.

“Right,” Tasha muttered, seeming to not believe him. “‘Just a broken nose’.”

******************************

The incident with Cadet Elar spread across campus like wildfire. As is typical with such things, the details became greatly exaggerated and distorted. Most people retained the mental image of René as a knight in shining armor gallantly coming to Tasha’s aid in her time of dire need, which of course did nothing to allay the scuttlebutt flying around that the two were dating. They insisted repeatedly that they were ‘just friends’ to everyone who asked, including their roommates.

“He _is_ handsome, though” said Thara as she and Tasha sat cloistered in a private study room in the library, going over their notes for Ancient Philosophies. “For a human, I mean.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Would you just drop it, Thara? We’re _not_ dating. End of story.”

“Of course you’re not dating _right now_ ,” persisted Thara. “But that doesn’t mean you _couldn’t_ , if you wanted to.”

“Well, we _don’t_ want to. Case closed.”

“Are you so sure that’s mutual?”

“I _said_ case closed!”

“Come on,” argued Thara. “You’re an empath, albeit of a limited degree. Are you really going to sit there and tell me you haven’t sensed _any_ attraction between the two of you?”

Tasha sighed exasperatedly. “Well, maybe on a subliminal level. But that’s normal. My mother says that sexual tension isn’t uncommon between close friends of opposing sexes.”

“Oh, so now you’re _sexually attracted_ to him!”

“What? No, I never said that!”

“But you implied it!”

“Look, just drop it, all right?” snapped Tasha. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Something in Tasha’s voice told Thara that she shouldn’t try to push the point. “Fine,” she said, casting about for a change in subject. “Are the four of us still going to Tiburon for René’s birthday tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but we’ll have to cut it short,” said Tasha. “His parents only have a small window tomorrow between Kzinthi negotiations to talk to him, so we’ll have to head back around 1400 hours.”

“You know, you don’t _have_ to use military time in everyday conversation.”

Tasha shrugged. “Sorry, force of habit. It happens when you’re a Starfleet brat.”

******************************

“I just don’t understand it,” René complained to his parents on the viewscreen. “The closer we get, the harder she pushes me away. The whole time we were in Tiburon she hardly spoke a word to me except to say ‘happy birthday’. It’s like she’s going out of her way to prove that there’s nothing happening between us.”

Picard and Beverly looked at each other, then back to their son. _“She must have a reason,”_ said Beverly. _“Deanna and I have talked about this, and she says that Tasha might simply be afraid. She hasn’t said much to her about it, but it was really hard for her after Totyarguil died. Learning to open yourself up again after experiencing a loss like that isn’t easy for anyone, even fully grown adults.”_

“But--” René stopped as he realized he didn’t really have a response. Of course he knew it had been hard for Tasha; he was at the funeral, and he’d communicated with her over subspace almost every day since. They’d been friends nearly all of their lives, ever since their harrowing incident on Capulon IV, and they’d known about each other’s existence since before they even met. He literally couldn’t imagine his life without her in it, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. But was that enough to overcome the hardships Tasha had endured?

“What should I do?” he asked his parents.

 _“Just keep being there for her,”_ Picard told him. _“She needs you to be her friend right now, so just do that. The rest will follow in time, just as it did for your mother and me.”_

René groaned. “It’s not going to take twenty-plus years _this_ time, is it?”

His father’s eyes widened innocently. _“Now why ever would you say such a thing?”_

 _“Jean-Luc, don’t tease him,”_ protested Beverly.

 _“Right, sorry, my love. It’s difficult to recall how I felt before our relationship was resolved.”_ Picard smiled at his wife, then turned back to face René. _“The road of love is rarely a straight one, son, or a smooth one. But you will be richly rewarded in the end, if you can stay the course.”_

René nodded. “Stay the course. Right.” He mustered a brave countenance. “I think I can do that, for Tasha.”

And stay the course he did, through the rest of September and into October. Scuttlebutt regarding the two of them continued to persist in the grapevine, but he and Tasha studiously ignored it. Their relationship began to return to the casual, easygoing nature it had held for the past eleven years, and René dared to hope that maybe Tasha would be ready to entertain the notion of a romantic relationship soon.

Then came the Sadie Hawkins dance.

******************************

The Sadie Hawkins dance was an annual Academy tradition since Starfleet’s inception, and it dated all the way back to Terran schools of the mid-twentieth century. It was traditionally a “girls ask boys” affair, and René and Tasha immediately fell under siege-- René primarily by girls asking him to the dance, and Tasha by boys asking her to ask _them_ to the dance, although they each received their fair share of invitations from members of the same sex as their own. It seemed that despite the common assumption that the two were secretly dating (and perhaps _because_ of their repeated denials of the idea), their fellow cadets were unafraid to pursue them openly. There was certainly no shortage of cadets eager to be seen on the arm of a Picard or a Riker-Troi.

“I may have a solution to your dilemma,” said René’s roommate Sakar one evening as the four of them studied together in Tasha and Thara’s room.

“I’m not going with _you_ , Sakar,” Tasha said exasperatedly. “You can’t dance, and I actually _want_ to dance.”

“I was not going to suggest myself,” Sakar said with a raised eyebrow. “I have no desire to attend the dance anyway. It sounds like a most illogical and noisy affair. I intended to suggest instead that you go with René. Many already assume that the two of you are together, and it may satisfy the proverbial mob.”

“But we’re not--”

“We can just go as friends, though, right?” René interrupted, trying to head off Tasha’s train of thought before she could find an excuse to reject Sakar’s idea. In reality, it had been his, René’s, idea to go to the dance with Tasha, but he’d been afraid that Tasha would dismiss it out of hand if it came directly from him. He knew she was inclined to trust Vulcans, having been under the care and tutelage of a Vulcan nanny and teacher for much of her childhood, and he’d hoped that she might be more willing to entertain the idea if it came from Sakar. Sakar had been willing enough to help when René first told him his plan, but he had been compelled to remark on the illogical nature of human relationships. René couldn’t disagree with him.

“Friends,” Tasha said slowly, turning the word over with her tongue. “Yeah. We’re friends. We can go together. And at least _you_ can dance.”

René grinned. “You bet I can. Mom made sure I knew how to dance after hearing Wesley complain when he was at the Academy about feeling embarrassed because _he_ couldn’t dance. At least one son of the Dancing Doctor was going to live up to the name.”

“The ‘Dancing Doctor’?” Sakar and Thara asked in perplexed unison.

“Mom’s nickname. She’s a doctor and she can dance and… well, yeah. It’s not the most imaginative of nicknames. But it _is_ alliterative.”

******************************

The big day finally arrived, and so did René to escort Tasha to the dance. Tasha’s door opened obediently at his chime, and René’s jaw dropped when he saw her. 

She was gorgeous.

She was clad in a form-fitting gown of shimmering blue silk, and her bare shoulders were accentuated by a sparkling diamond necklace. Her hair fell in cascading dark waves down her back, perfectly accentuating her pale skin and rosy cheeks. René thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight in all his life.

“Wow,” he stammered, then immediately wanted to kick himself. “I mean, you look great.” _What? No, you idiot, she looks more than great!_ “You look beautiful,” he finally managed to get out, though it still sounded lame and inadequate to his ears. And had his voice always been that squeaky?

“Thanks.” Tasha seemed self-conscious as she took his arm, but René couldn’t imagine why that was so. How could anyone be self-conscious with a body like that?

They made their way down to the formal banqueting hall where the dance was being held, managing to keep up a steady stream of small talk as they went. Initially they mingled around the edges of the dance floor with their mutual friends, but as more and more people drifted onto the dance floor, they ended up joining them. Tasha was having a grand old time, and she was feeling quite relaxed and comfortable until a slow song came on whose lyrics increasingly began to resonate with her:

_“When I’m feeling blue / And no light is shining through / Darling you, yeah you pull me through…”_

She continued to allow herself to be led by René as the song continued, not certain why she should be feeling uneasy. Was she picking up on someone else’s emotions, perhaps? But no; when she extended her empathic senses, she sensed only a large number of people having the time of their lives, and she quickly had to rein herself in behind her mental shields to avoid being overwhelmed. There was nothing to fear here, that much was plain. So what was the cause of her disquiet?

_“When I need a friend / Without even knowing you came and you showed me / A love without an end…”_

It was at that moment that Tasha realized her head was resting against René’s cheek, and they were no longer dancing in an organized fashion but merely leaning against each other as they swayed back and forth to the music. She felt safer than she’d ever felt before in her life, and something eerily familiar began to stir within her, like a half-remembered melody. 

Just then a feeling of panic overwhelmed her, as if coming from out of nowhere. She stopped dancing, and René continued to sway for a moment until he realized his partner had stopped moving. “Tasha?” he asked, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“I-- I’m fine,” she muttered, not meeting his eyes. “Can we sit down?”

“Um-- right, of course.” He led her off the dance floor to a nearby table, and they sat down just as the song ended. He continued to look at her with concern, but she didn’t even seem to realize he was still there. She was just staring off into the distance, as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Tasha?” She didn’t respond. “Tasha!” She looked around with a start and met his gaze. “Are you all right?” he repeated.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, somehow managing to exude an air of serene calmness. “I just got a cramp, that’s all.” She hastily reached down to massage her calf, as if to say _see, I’m telling the truth_ , and René couldn’t help but think that he was the most hopeless romantic in the history of hopeless romantics to fall in love with the one girl who either couldn’t or wouldn’t be more than just friends with him.


	4. The Decision, Part Two: Love Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Tasha and René come to a head, and Tasha finally realizes her feelings for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two takes place between October-December 2399, and the last scene takes place on New Year’s Eve/Day 2399/2400.

October ended and November went by in a blur, literally as well as figuratively, since the Academy marathon was rapidly approaching and Rene and Tasha’s training necessarily intensified. René hadn’t even wanted to do the marathon, but since Tasha had signed up and was going to spend much of her free time training for it, René also signed up so that he could train with her rather than spend too much time apart. He felt sure that the incident at the Sadie Hawkins dance was the beginning of some sort of catharsis, and if he could just spend as much time with her as possible, she would eventually open up to him and tell him just what she’s been thinking all this time.

Their romantic non-entanglement wasn’t the only problem he had to contend with, however. His own father had run the Academy marathon as a freshman way back in 2323, and after making a drunken, boastful prediction that he would be the first freshman ever to win, wound up passing four upperclassmen on the final hill on Danula II and made his prediction come true. A few other freshmen had managed to win the race in the intervening years, but Jean-Luc Picard’s victory was still the stuff of legend. People expected René to do at the very least nearly as well as his father, and frankly he did not appreciate the pressure.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Tasha was saying to her parents over subspace. She’d called them on the occasion of their twentieth wedding anniversary, hoping to get at least a few minutes of coherent conversation out of them before the Phase finally kicked in and rendered them completely incommunicado to anyone except each other. Fortunately, having two ten-year-olds to deal with forced them to regulate their mutual… _desires_ , so Tasha was actually able to discuss recent and coming events with them and be assured that they were actually paying attention. “Jean-Luc doesn’t think he has to win. Beverly doesn’t think he has to win. None of us think he has to win, so why is he so worried about a bunch of random strangers thinking he has to win?”

_“You know better than that, Tasha,”_ said her mother sternly. _“It’s called peer pressure, and it's perfectly natural for him to be affected by it. I hope you’re reassuring him that you won’t think any less of him no matter how well-- or otherwise-- he does.”_

“Of course,” said Tasha earnestly. “I couldn’t possibly think any less of--” She stopped abruptly as she ran up against an emotional wall she couldn’t quite cross. To cover her slip, she asked hastily, “Are you guys going to watch the race?”

_“Of course we are, Tasha,”_ said her father, pretending to ignore her unfinished sentence as per Deanna’s directive. She had insisted to him that they shouldn’t try to push her into talking about the nature of her feelings for René, arguing that they wouldn’t get anything useful out of her until she was actually ready to talk about it, and he had reluctantly agreed. _“Christine’s going to pipe the feed down to the crew lounge so that the rest of the crew can watch it, too. We’ll all be rooting for you, sweetheart.”_

Tasha’s face flushed with embarrassed pride, and she smiled warmly at her parents. “I love you guys.”

_“We love you too, little one,”_ her mother said, blowing her a kiss. _“By the way, your grandmother and your uncles will be watching too. Thomas is somewhere in the Delta Quadrant, but we’ve arranged to get him a secure subspace link so he can watch the race live. He’s very excited for you.”_

Tasha grinned. “I know.” She and her Uncle Thomas had regularly sent each other letters over subspace ever since their first meeting eleven years ago, when he’d saved her and René from what would have been a life of servitude far from home with no hope of rescue. His initial hesitation to be part of Tasha’s life stemmed from his as yet unresolved feelings for Deanna, but seeing how happy she was with his ‘brother’ and his niece helped bring him some closure, and he had taken up the role of ‘fun uncle’ with great enthusiasm. He immediately fell into that role for Bev and Tommy as well upon their births, and now it felt as though he had always been part of the family. “He said he wanted to come in person, but Admiral Batanides had other ideas.”

Her father scowled. _“I’ve never liked that woman,”_ he said. _“We were lucky to get him that secure link, you know. She’s been sending him increasingly far afield after he ‘botched’ that mission by rescuing you.”_

Deanna placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. _“At least he’ll be able to watch the race,_ Imzadi,” she said reassuringly. She glanced at the chrono, then back to Tasha. _“We have to go now, little one. We’ll call you again after the race.”_

“Okay. I love you!”

_“We love you too!”_

******************************

At last it was December, and the day of the marathon arrived. Four dozen pairs of feet lined up at the starting line on Deneva, which was only now beginning to approach its former glory. Deneva had been one of the planets bombarded by the Borg during their final invasion of the Federation, and much of the surface had been rendered largely uninhabitable. The track on which they would be running today had been named the Elieth and Ione Kitain Memorial Path, in honor of the son and daughter-in-law of Commander Tuvok of the Titan, who had been among those slain on Deneva because they stayed behind to ensure the most vulnerable were able to get away safely. Tasha had always been aware of this fact, but she hadn’t fully understood it until she too lost someone to the twin pillars of duty and self-sacrifice. She hoped that she would be able to do justice to their memory in today’s race.

She glanced sideways at René, who had knelt down to tighten his shoelaces. She sensed a small degree of nervousness from him about the impending race. “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to reassure him. “You’ll do fine.”

He looked up at her, and the nervousness became tinged with that persistent _something_ which kept floating to the surface every time they made a connection as simple as direct eye contact or accidentally brushing against one another. Tasha simultaneously felt thrilled and terrified every time this happened, but for some reason she hesitated to examine those feelings in any significant depth.

“I know,” René said doubtfully as he made one final pull on his shoelaces and stood up straight. “But I can’t shake the feeling that if I don’t end up at least in the top five, I’ll forever be branded as ‘not as good as my father’.”

“You’re at _least_ as good as your father, if not better,” said Tasha fiercely. “And you’re going to prove that today. That’s an _order_ , Mr. Picard.”

René grinned in spite of himself. “You’re going to make one hell of a captain someday.”

Tasha grinned back and did a brief curtsy. “Why, thank you very much.” That mysterious unnamed feeling began to emerge again, and she hastily broke off eye contact and faced forward in preparation for the starting gun. René sighed, then did the same beside her.

“Ready, set-- _GO!_ ”

The starting gun went off, and the runners took off in a flurry of arms and legs. Tasha and René quickly found positions in the middle of the pack, knowing it wouldn’t do to exhaust themselves too early by pushing themselves into first place right away. There were still 26 or so miles ahead of them in which to pass the other runners.

The two of them remained neck and neck for the first quarter of the course, passing about a half-dozen of their fellow runners. There were only twelve runners ahead of them as they passed the quarter-marker and came within earshot of the cheers of the surrounding crowd. They both reached out for cups of water that were offered to them and downed two cups each as if they were air. More cups were offered to them, but they opted to dump the water over their heads to cool down rather than drink too much.

They continued to run side by side, more for the sheer joy of it now than anything else. Tasha had expected this ‘runner’s high’ to kick in around this point, and she sensed from René the same exhilaration as they passed the halfway marker. There were now only six runners ahead of them, and if they continued at their current pace they would surely pass most of them. She and René exchanged triumphant glances. Maybe there was a chance that one of them would win after all.

As they came up on the three-quarter mark, they easily passed three stumbling, raggedly breathing upperclassmen who had pushed themselves too hard too soon and were now paying the price. The previously level path was now gradually becoming more hilly, and just as they had done in their training they took advantage of gravity to increase their speed as they ran down the slopes, then endeavored to keep up the increased pace as they climbed the next hill. René was starting to pull slightly ahead of Tasha, his greater muscle mass working to his advantage. Tasha didn’t mind; it was René who had suffered the brunt of their peers’ expectations, not her. He needed to win more than she did. She definitely did not intend to finish last, though. That went entirely against her nature. She was an achiever, and she wouldn’t settle for less than her best.

As they approached the final hill, they saw the three runners who still remained ahead of them. They were in a tight cluster, the back two jockeying for the frontrunner’s position. As the five of them ran up the hill, one of the three fell back, finally exhausted beyond all hope of continuing. René easily surpassed him as well as the next one, Tasha following close behind. There was only one runner just barely ahead of them now. This time _they_ were the frontrunners, and Tasha could hear the roar of the crowd in her ears as she and René passed the remaining runner, cresting the hill and proceeded downward towards the finish line. Euphoric, she pushed herself to increase her speed, trusting her momentum to carry her forward--

She never knew what had caused her to lose her step. One minute she was flying down the hill at breakneck speed, the next she went sprawling, her legs tangled beneath her like a jumble of kal-toh playing rods.

_Did I seriously just trip over my own feet?_ she thought with numb disbelief. The question quickly flew from her mind, however, as she tried to stand up and felt a stabbing bolt of lightning pain shoot through her left ankle. _No! NO!! I’m so close! I_ was _so close…_

Ahead of all the other runners, with nothing in front of him but the finish line, René faltered, feeling a shudder of agony and despair pass through him. He turned his head and saw Tasha on the ground, her ankle red and swollen. Her eyes met his, and she seemed to say, without speaking, _Go. Run! You’re almost there. You can still win! Don’t worry about me._

René smiled, knowing that he couldn't do that even if he wanted to. _You’re my friend._ He turned all the way around and ran back up the slope, the previous runners passing him in the opposite direction. He bent down and scooped Tasha up, preparing to run back down the slope.

_“What are you DOING?”_

The force of Tasha’s outburst surprised him. He looked down at her, startled. “I’m helping you. Isn’t that what friends--?”

“You were about to win! You didn’t have to come back for me and sacrifice yourself for me like that!”

“ _Sacrifice_ myself? It’s just a race, Tasha. Even carrying you, I can still finish in--”

_Put me down RIGHT NOW and then KEEP RUNNING!_

He stopped and set her down without thinking about it, so startled was he at the directive that seemed to come from Tasha without the aid of her lips. _Where did_ that _come from? I thought she couldn’t communicate telepathically. Could it have just been my imagination?_ Instinctively obeying her command, he turned and ran the rest of the way to the finish line. Tasha hopped along on one leg behind him, seething.

******************************

René had ended up finishing in fifth place, Tasha in eighteenth. Everyone was very impressed that Tasha had managed to finish the race at all with her injury, never mind in the top twenty, and no one thought any less of René because he hadn’t finished first. Nobody heard the words spoken between him and Tasha on the track, but everyone saw how he went back for her and how she had insisted on finishing on her own. Their peers and instructors commended Tasha for her determination and resilience, and René for his compassion and noble selflessness, which infuriated Tasha beyond comprehension.

“How _dare_ he do something like that?!” she complained to her mother after the race. “He was literally _this_ close to winning, and then he just went and sacrificed all of that! And for what? For _me?_ Of all the _ridiculous--_ ”

_“Natasha,”_ Deanna interrupted, forcing Tasha to break off her vitriol. _“It seems that you’re much angrier about this than the situation calls for. Certainly ‘sacrificed’ sounds like much too strong a word for what happened.”_

“That’s _exactly_ what happened,” Tasha said through gritted teeth. “He was about to win, and then he gave it all up for my sake. What else would you call that?”

Deanna was silent for a moment, pondering Tasha’s choice of words. There was something very strongly familiar about Tasha’s emotional reaction to what René had done. She was fairly certain she knew what was driving it, but it was important for Tasha to come to that realization herself, with only the most cursory assistance. Self-knowledge could only be obtained by oneself; it was impossible to come by it accurately at the hands of another.

She took a deep breath and addressed her daughter again. _“Why do you think you’re so angry at him?”_

Tasha scowled. “I just told you. And don’t try to _counsel_ me!”

_“I’m not trying to counsel you, little one. I’m just trying to understand why you’re so angry at René for doing something_ nice _for you.”_

“But he didn’t--!” Tasha broke off abruptly as she realized her voice was starting to sound hysterical. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, in an effort to center herself. Once she was sufficiently calm, she opened her eyes and continued in a slow, measured voice. “He voluntarily gave up a concrete, meaningful achievement for virtually nothing in return. I did not benefit significantly from his sacrifice; I only came in eighteenth place. And he was actively harmed by his choice; instead of finishing in first place, he came in fifth. There was absolutely no point in him doing what he did. It was completely… unnecessary.”

_“I see,”_ Deanna nodded slowly.

“Don’t say ‘I see’, Mother. This isn’t a counseling session.”

_“Of course it isn’t,”_ said Deanna patiently. _“But I’m still confused about something. Even if everything you just said was true, it’s still all perfectly in character for René. He did come to your defense back in September when that other cadet tried to hit you. You might not have been able to anticipate tripping and spraining your ankle, but you shouldn’t have been surprised that he tried to come back for you during the race. Isn’t that what friends do? Help each other, even at their own expense?”_

Suddenly Tasha flashed back to the last time a friend other than René had put himself at risk for her, and the tragic result that followed. “Friends shouldn’t--” _Wait, am I crying? This is ridiculous. What’s there to cry about?_ “I mean, he didn’t have to-- there was no need--” Her throat closed up as everything she’d been suppressing for the past four and a half months came gushing forth from the depths of her subconscious. Her anger dissolved into a seething pit of grief and pain. Beneath those emotions she could sense a deeper truth, one she’d been running from ever since that day in Classroom 412-B three months ago. Suddenly every moment she and René had shared was cast into a new light, every word spoken, every accidental touch, every surreptitious glance. It was clear as day now but she couldn’t-- _wouldn't_ acknowledge the steady and inexorable shift in their relationship towards the romantic. It was too close to what she had experienced with Totyarguil only a few short years ago-- an experience that had abruptly ended in his own self-sacrifice for her benefit just as she was preparing to take their relationship to the next level.

Tasha looked up at her mother, tears streaming down her face. “Mom…” she sniffled, then took a deep breath and continued, “I think I’m in love with René.”

_“I know.”_ Deanna smiled. _“And he’s in love with you, too. Beverly has told me as much, and even your father has noticed the two of you have been getting closer lately. Closer than usual, I mean.”_

“You’ve been talking about us behind our backs? Has _everyone_ been spreading scuttlebutt about us?!”

_“Only because we care about you and want you to be happy, little one-- both of you. I can’t speak for what your peers might be saying, of course.”_

Tasha sighed wearily. Now that everything was finally out in the open, she felt exhausted and emotionally drained, as if she’d just run _another_ marathon. But with emotional release came emotional awareness, and she was keenly aware now of how horribly she’d been treating René all semester. She had just been so _afraid_ … of loving him, of losing him, of so many things that had seemed perfectly reasonable to be afraid of at the time. Now her stubborn insistence that she and René were “just friends” seemed incredibly hollow and pathetic. But what could she do about it _now?_ Surely she had irreparably damaged their friendship by her outburst on Deneva.

“What do I do now?” she asked her mother.

_“What do you want to do?”_

Tasha shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

_“Yes, you do.”_

Tasha scowled again. “Don’t you ever turn it off?”

_“Turn what off?”_ her mother asked innocently.

“You _know_ what. 'Counseling mode'.”

Deanna chuckled. _“My training does have a tendency to take over in situations such as this, but in this case I’m not trying to be your counselor right now. I’m just your mother, and that_ can’t _be turned off. Now, I think you know what you want to do. You’re just afraid to do it.”_

“Still sounds like a counselor to me.”

_“You’re stalling, little one.”_

Tasha sighed. “I know. But how can I tell René how I feel _now?_ I’ve spent all this time pushing him away. I don’t even know if we’re still friends anymore. We haven’t spoken since the race, and we don’t sit next to each other in class anymore. What am I supposed to do, just knock on his door and tell him I love him?”

_“That’s one idea. Another might be to write him a letter, if you’re too nervous to do it in person. Not to send, mind you, just to get your thoughts in order. You’ve been keeping him and your emotions at a safe distance so far, but if you want your relationship to proceed to the next level, you’ll have to face them-- and him-- directly.”_

Tasha swallowed, realizing her mother was right. “But what if he doesn’t forgive me? I’ve been terrible to him, Mom. What if he doesn’t feel the same way about me anymore?”

Deanna’s smile was full of compassion and understanding. _“People don’t just fall_ out _of love, Tasha. Even your father and I, we were friends for years while we kept our feelings for one another under wraps. But the point is those feelings were_ still there _, little one. If he truly loves you, he won’t stop just because you were afraid to show him your true feelings.”_

Tasha took a deep breath, then straightened her shoulders and pulled down her uniform jacket. “You’re right, Mom. I’m going to tell him right now before I chicken out again.” She paused. “Thank you, Mom. For everything.”

Her smile grew wider. _“What are mothers for?”_

******************************

René turned out to not be in his room, but Sakar informed Tasha that he could be found in the library, ensconced in one of the private study rooms preparing for finals. As she walked across campus, she reflected on what had led her to this pass. When she was younger, she had thought Totyarguil was perfect for her. They seemed to fit together in so many ways. But as she looked back over her life, she realized that much of the same reasoning she had applied to Totyarguil in the past also applied to René here and now.

They were both Starfleet brats, children of four of the most famous officers ever to wear the uniform. It was only natural for them to bond over a common situation no one else could ever hope to understand, not even Totyarguil, who had been the son of two virtually unknown Starfleet officers himself. And she began to realize-- _really_ realize-- that their cadet friends were making the same assumptions about her and René that her grade school friends had once made about her and Totyarguil. Totyarguil had been many firsts for her; her first crush, her first kiss, and her first romantic relationship. But René was her first love. She knew that now, and she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t realized it before. But that was often the way of these things; the people to whom they should have been the most obvious were nearly always the last to know.

She arrived at the library and checked the monitor for the room René Picard had rented. Her heart pounding, she proceeded up the stairs and down the hall. As she reached the door, she hesitated. _No, Tasha! Don’t back out now. You_ have _to resolve this._

Tasha steeled herself to press the door chime and was just raising her arm to do so when the door suddenly opened. René stood there, looking somewhat disheveled and sleep-deprived. “Tasha?”

Startled, Tasha blinked rapidly. “Um… how did you know I was here?”

René shrugged. “Not sure. I thought I heard your voice.”

“My… voice?”

“Yeah, kind of in my head. It happened at the race, too. But it must have been my imagination, right? Because you can’t communicate telepathically.”

“You… heard my voice… in your _head?_ ”

“Well, I _thought_ I did. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?”

Tasha smiled, tears of joy filling her eyes as she took his hands in both of hers. “No, René. Not impossible.”

She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, all her doubts having turned to pure, unadulterated certainty in an instant of unintentional telepathic connection. Looking directly into his eyes, she said, “I almost ruined things between us, because I was too afraid to fall in love again. Can you forgive me?”

René smiled back, his heart full of joy and renewed hope. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

And he kissed her all over again.

******************************

Christmas came the following week, and the Picards and Riker-Trois planned to have a joint celebration at Château Picard. Besides Jean-Luc, Beverly, Deanna, Will, and the Riker-Troi twins, Lwaxana, Barin, and Thomas were also in attendance. Marie Picard welcomed them all gladly, grateful beyond words to have such a large extended family gathering under her roof. She was especially looking forward to seeing her nephew again, since he reminded her so much of her own late René, after whom Jean-Luc’s son was named. Since he and Tasha were on the same planet, she expected them to arrive before all the other guests. But on Christmas Eve, the Titan arrived first to drop off the Riker-Trois with Lwaxana and Barin in tow, having made stops along the way to pick them up, and then the Enterprise arrived with the Picards and Thomas Riker. And there was still no sign of René and Tasha.

“Maybe we should call the academy,” said Marie worriedly.

Deanna smiled at her reassuringly. “I’m sure they’re fine. I’m close enough now that I would sense if anything was wrong.”

“As am I,” said Lwaxana hoarsely. She was physically very weak, as she was still recovering from a bout of Ankaran flu she’d suffered a few weeks before, but she had vehemently forestalled her son’s and daughter’s objections to her traveling to Earth on this particular occasion. There was no way in hell she was going to pass up a chance to see her grandchildren in person. She doted on all three of them, having waited an inordinately long time (to her) to become a grandmother. “In fact, I can sense them coming now.”

No sooner did Lwaxana finish her sentence than the perimeter security system beeped in announcement. _“Two individuals approaching. Species: human and human-Betazoid hybrid. Names: René Picard and Natasha Riker-Troi.”_

“Well, it’s about time!” said Barin. “Couldn’t they have just beamed straight here?”

“I think this may be partially my fault,” admitted Jean-Luc. “Whenever Beverly and I have brought René here in the past, we always walked from the transporter station in town, so that we could admire the countryside and show René the sights. I think René just wanted to do the same for Tasha.”

Beverly smirked. “Or maybe he just wanted to show her _his_ sights.” She and the other women laughed as the men rolled their eyes. Bev and Tommy looked back and forth between them, nonplussed. “What does that mean?” asked Tommy.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” said Deanna, wiping away tears of mirth.

René and Tasha arrived, just in time to catch Beverly’s comment. Tasha looked at her grandmother accusingly. “You didn’t tell them what we were doing, did you, Nana? I know sometimes you can’t help what thoughts you pick up, but I thought it was considered impolite to make them common knowledge.”

“I didn’t tell them anything, Little One,” Lwaxana said slowly.

Tasha blinked. “Oh. Okay, never mind, then.”

“No, no, no,” said Will, getting to his feet. “Just what is it you and René were doing and does it have anything to do with why you’re late?”

Tasha and René looked at each other, then looked away, blushing slightly. “Um-- well, you see-- that is--” They talked over each other in a disorganized fashion, both trying to put into words an experience that was quite beyond words. Deanna was the first to realize what they were trying to say, and a slow smile spread across her face. “You _did it_ , didn’t you?”

Tasha grinned. “Twice.”

“Outdoors?” asked Marie with alarm. “Did anyone see you?”

“Relax, Aunt Marie,” René said reassuringly. “Those bushes are so thick _we_ could barely see each other.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t wait until you had access to an actual _bed?_ ”

“You don’t need a bed to have a good time,” said Tasha, waggling her eyebrows with amusement.

“What does _that_ mean?!” repeated Tommy insistently, Bev joining him this time.

In unison, all of the adults replied, “When you’re older.”

******************************

_December 31st, 2399, 11:57 P.M._

It was freezing outside, but René and Tasha didn’t seem to notice. They were standing arm in arm in Times Square, looking up at the giant ball that was about to drop to ring in the 25th century. It was an ancient Earth tradition that had somehow managed to survive to the present day, although there weren’t nearly as many pickpockets lurking about as there were in centuries past. But even if there were, Tasha wouldn’t have cared. Here she was, standing on the verge of a new century with her _Imzadi_. One of her two major life goals was complete. The other (to be a starship captain) would have to wait until the 25th century. Fortunately, that wasn’t long in coming.

René squeezed her hand. She smiled warmly at him, then reached up to kiss his cheek.

He laughed. “I thought we were supposed to wait until midnight.”

She caressed his other cheek, and kissed that one too. “I’m tired of waiting, _Imzadi._ ” 

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “So am I.”

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and they were still kissing even as the ball dropped and the new century dawned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes The Adventures of Natasha Riker-Troi series! Further stories featuring Tasha and René will continue in one or more new series.


End file.
